


Nightgowns at Starlight

by archea2



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Both deserve happiness, Crossover, Dialogue Heavy, F/F, Femslash, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 06:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15137300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archea2/pseuds/archea2
Summary: In 1949, in a Europe entering its own post-Calormene age, two women speak happily at night.





	Nightgowns at Starlight

"Why would you feel guilty?" Wendy asks, clear-voiced, turning the lip rouge between her fingers. It's Red Delicious, Susan's favorite shade, one that reminds Wendy of that last, ardent ring of light over the laguna. Neverland never knew rain; had no idea how to long for the kindness of mists or milky clouds; only knew triumphant suns and red-to-black twilights.   
  
Back in England, Wendy had longed for the reds.   
  
Susan Pevensie gives her dark cloud of hair its hundredth stroke, then reaches out one-handedly. Wendy's chignon topples into a girl's long strands, making her face tender. When parted, they curl imperceptibly around Susan's fingers.   
  
"Because... because they're all gone and it's too late to say Pax, the way we did as children; because Aslan gave them safe conduct and I knew it, even as I unfolded the telegram, I knew they had been right all along, but something in me would not give. I still wanted to live, and age, and... and hear you say _Miss Pevensie, has anyone ever told you you walk like a mermaid_..."  
  
"With soft proud hips, and I love you for it. Did you ever..."  
  
"The merfolk? Yes, but we only saw them once a year, on Coronation Day. I favoured the dryads, anyway. They had your leafy eyes."  
  
"You did not know me then, Your Majesty."  
  
"Didn't I? When we met for real, at that Post-War Effort Tea, all the women could talk about was pig rashers and margarine and thank the Lord for cod liver oil, but you – you smelled of trees. You smelled as if you were tattooed all over in leaves." 

"They found their way to my bed for a long, long time."

"...Did you hate it?"

"What, growing up? Goodness me, no. Why should I?"

"You see – that's the thing. I was a woman forced back into girlhood, who just couldn’t wait to be a woman again. To, to exult in – oh, that mischievous green sap, when they put me to bed... You’re laughing!"

  
"Well, _I_ was the girl every boy-next-world wished would tuck him in and tell him a story. And the poor girl only wanted a kiss!"

"From a mermaid."

" _Touchée_. So touch me again. Touch my secret hair. Tea-time was hours ago; I'm done being mother."  
  
"I'm done... feeling at fault, Wendy."  
  
Wendy's laughter kindles another clarity. The bed has been cradling them for a while, itself cradled in the night-blue light. It's been four years since the windows of the old house at Number Fourteen were muffled in black bombazine to obey the curfew edict. No curtains now, never again.

  
"Good. I can't very well make you fly if you will ground yourself."  
  
"It _was_ the stuff of dreams and it was real, like the two sides on a girl's hair ribbon, that's what you taught me. It was there and is here, now, Narnia, now we are done with the winter years. Only, it's been a bit transmogrified. Like your island."  
  
"Oh, I don’t know. It's still nightgowns at starlight…"

"Not for long, my Darling girl."

"…and orchards of apples for you. Taste?"  
  
"You've put on my -! Yes. Come here. Come closer. You... no longer long?"  
  
"Hush, my everland."

 


End file.
